Not About Angels
by LeighSix
Summary: Three months after Gus's death, Hazel dies, now Isaac is left alone to continue the story of his life. Returning to support group is not easy, and there is no replacing his two best friends. But everyone has an infinity, and some are simply bigger than others.
1. Prologue: Not About Surviving

**_So I have not yet written a TFIOS story, and if I has it's been a long, long time, and I think maybe you will like this. This is Isaac's story after the end._**

 **Not About Angels**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own TFIOS**

Gus had been gone a year, and Hazel had been gone a few months. Phalanxifor stopped working days before the cancer finally took over her body exactly three months after Gus's cancer stopped his heart, which according to Hazel, was made of him. Hazel's cancer was made of her too, much longer and much worse than Gus's was.

Why is the world so cruel to me? I lost my best friend, his terminal girlfriend left alone to be depressed and slowly sinking into her own hole, unable to dig out any longer, it was all we could do but wait. Her medication had officially stopped working, her doctor saying that unfortunately, there was no use trying to refill her prescription.

After Hazel had died, I felt like I was next. Both of my friends and their reoccurrence of cancer took their lives, and I thought that maybe I would die in three months, just like Hazel and Gus did apart.

That was four months ago, to tell you the truth.

I've gotten to the realization over the past few months; life really sucks. I mean, it really, really sucks. You get your hopes up that maybe something good will happen, and maybe something good does happen, and you'll let your guard down long enough for it to be whisked away with the wind.

Summer is almost out, and my mother suggested to me today that I go back to support group. I felt bad, because I kind of laughed at her and told her that there was no point in going back because Gus had been gone and now Hazel wouldn't be there with me.

She didn't think I had a valid argument. "Isaac, it can be good for you."

If I had eyes, I would have rolled them, and I'm sure my mother knew that. "Come on, Isaac, you might meet a new friend, maybe someone to keep you company or something. Maybe you can find someone to-"

But by that point, not only was I already halfway up the steps, but I knew what she was going to say, the same thing she always had about how I couldn't let missing Hazel and Gus distract me from the rest of my life, which still felt like a life without meaning, but nevertheless, I was laying upstairs when I agreed to it.

"Alright," I said when I could sense my mother was in the hallway. I was confirmed of my suspicions when she opened the door and flipped on the light. I heard the switch and sighed.

"What is it, Isaac?" She said, in a slightly hesitant and irritable tone. I don't blame her. One of her sons runs around the house all day and drives her crazy and the other one is blind.

I sighed, a feeling of my heart sinking to my stomach before I could even speak. I must've looked like a fool, laying there staring up at the ceiling with my mouth agape like a fool. Finally, thought, I managed to form somewhat coherent words.

"I think I will go back to support group."

I was concerned for a minute. I thought she had left the room.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Isaac?"

I turned toward her direction. "You didn't leave?"

I could sense her shaking her head, "No dear, I didn't."

"So did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"And what do you think?"

I could only imagine the smile on her face, the pleasure in her voice evident when she said, "I think you are a survivor."

Yeah, because that's so comforting, to call me a survivor when my two best friends had died from cancer, only months apart on the dime, and as I grew to think about it I thought that maybe they died apart like that because they were meant to be together, and that would have been okay with me.

Except death is never okay, at least, not as cruel and expected as it happened to Hazel, but at least she seemed at peace. Her mother told me one minute she was breathing and the next, well, she wasn't, and her body was still, cold, and her limbs had gone stiff. No coughing, no screaming, no suffocating, nothing just gone.

Yeah, so here I lie, about to tell you my boring story of my life without my two best friends.

And yet I don't see how I can be a survivor if I am barely living.

 ** _I hope you all enjoyed the prologue. I can't assure it will always be happy, but it wont always be this depressing either._**

 ** _Please review!_**

 ** _~Leigh_**


	2. Chapter 1: Not About Books

**_So I have not yet written a TFIOS story, and if I has it's been a long, long time, and I think maybe you will like this. This is Isaac's story after the end._**

* * *

 **Not About Angels**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own TFIOS**

 ** _Reply to WallFlower95: Aw, thank you! Now update Convergent. I can't wait for the final chapter!_**

* * *

Just like Hazel's mother had, mine decided that I was depressed. She knew that the loss of two of the most important people in my life had taken a great toll on me, but she still pressured me to do somewhat normal things.

I finally got around to the audio book of _An Imperial Affliction_ and at first I absolutely hated it, finding all the death just painful and unbearable, but as time grew on it made me realize that if this book is the last thing I have to Hazel and Augustus, then so be it.

I will cherish it forever just like our last memories.

I know I've mentioned that life sucks; I mean it really, really, sucks. I mean first I lost my girlfriend, because she breaks up with me when I'm going blind, and then I went blind, and then Augustus had his reoccurrence of cancer. He and Hazel went to Amsterdam, and came back together, not that I'm complaining, I knew they were going to get together before they even did.

But then Gus kept getting worse and worse, and Hazel did too, especially after Gus died. She ate, but she kept getting sick. One night, I fell asleep on her couch and around three am, I heard her screaming in her sleep, and my first instinct was to run toward her. I carefully followed the sound of her voice, making my way up the steps in a fashionable –somewhat- pace, although I probably looked like a sloth clinging to the wall to find my way around.

"Hazel?" I said.

She was softly crying to herself, and said, "Gus?"

I knew this was bad. I followed her muffled sounds to the edge of her bed as she was crying. "No, it's Isaac."

She went quiet for a moment, "You're still here?"

I sighed, "Yeah, I'm still here, Hazel. I never left. I guess I fell asleep downstairs."

She was quiet for a moment and I heard her murmur something.

"Hazel," I said.

She murmured in response, and whispered something I couldn't understand, and then she said, "Let me go," and there was a pause, before she said, "back to sleep."

I didn't want her to go back to sleep. I was worried that if I left the room and she yelled again, it would be her last, and that I wouldn't be able to save her in time and be her voice. Her parents I didn't know had come into the room; according to Hazel she saw them in the doorway. And with teary eyes she dismissed them back to their room.

But instead, I sunk down into the edge of her bed, not before nearly falling on my ass, of course. I sat on the edge of her bed, and listened to the sounds that would lull her to sleep, like the sound of the machine that was keeping her alive.

* * *

It didn't last very long, to tell you all the truth, it just didn't. Hazel was not one to hold on after Gus died, and I expected maybe… a few weeks? You know post-depression of losing the love of your life, and still having the effects of cancer to remind you that even when you die you'll be happy again.

I'm sure Gus was waiting, patiently, for the day he could hold and love Hazel-Grace in his arms again, cancer free, and able to breathe without any pain or problems.

That day came too soon for everyone else, but even visiting their grave I can remind myself that they're happy, and I can just imagine them saying, "You'll be okay, Isaac."

I'm not so sure about that.

* * *

As much as I thought I was prepared for going back to support group, held by the one and only Patrick, I was entirely wrong, and I mean entirely wrong. Halfway down the steps I realized that this was a horrible idea, and I knew it was too late to change it.

My mother, I could imagine, was at the bottom of the steps waiting for me, as I heard her footsteps.

"Isaac, are you ready?" She asked me.

Was I ready? No, but it seemed like such a simple question to answer. But it wasn't. It meant was I ready to move on without Gus or Hazel by my side, and truthfully I wasn't, but I would anyways.

I nodded my head, and I hear my little brother chuckle. I turned my head to face him, and he snickered.

"Isaac, how many fingers am I holding up?"

I sigh, "Graham, this isn't funny anymore. If you were blind, and I did that to you, how would you feel?"

He was silent and I smirked to myself. "By the way you are holding up six fingers, six, for your age, one finger for each cookie I heard you take from the jar this morning."

He didn't utter another word as we drove to the church.

* * *

The church was filled with the usual people, none that wouldn't say hello to me upon a first glance. The elevator, thank god, wasn't broken like it was the last time I was here with Hazel.

The familiar sounds and smells hit my nostrils. It smelled like bleach, like fresh cleaner from all the disinfecting that had to go on around here. If you didn't have cancer, you were constantly ill with some infested germ around these parts.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay by yourself Isaac?" I know my mother means well, but part of the reason I agreed to come back was so that she would get off my ass about everything, and that I could do some things for myself without feeling entirely worthless.

Despite her wary arguments, saying we could just go back home, I figured I'm here now so I might as well try to enjoy myself for at least an hour.

"I'll be fine, mom." I assured, and sighed, tilting my head up to look at the ceiling.

* * *

"Welcome back, Isaac!" Patrick's voice is one that rings in your head and is almost like a voice of conscience you hear before you make a really stupid decision.

I nodded my head at him in response, but right now it felt like I was the center of a one on one session, and not like a group effort thing. "How are you doing, Isaac?"

I shrugged nonchalantly and Patrick sighed in response.

"I am sorry to hear about Hazel."

That hit me like a ton of bricks. Hearing about Hazel coming from Patrick made me realize that she is gone, and there is no one else to take her seat, and no one else to replace her or Gus.

"And Gus," I added. "Gus has been gone too."

He sighed. "We all knew about Gus, but Hazel is new, when did this happen?"

"She died about seven months ago." I replied, "She died exactly three months after Gus died, and that was about four months ago, so yeah, I would say roughly seven months or so."

I could sense that a lot of people probably felt the same about the loss of their friends or loved ones. No one was as close to Gus or Hazel as I was, but I heard the shuffling of someone's chair, and I turned to the sound.

"I knew Hazel very well." It was a feminine voice, someone who couldn't have been over sixteen or seventeen years old. I just wish I could have seen her. "I met her when we were in grade school, and she was so obsessed with this book. She couldn't have read much of it being so young, but by the time she was thirteen she could read the whole book. This was after the cancer."

I heard a small sound come from Patrick, almost as if he was stunned. I didn't know anyone else knew Hazel, only a few people knew Gus. It had to have been one of her friends, and it was.

"What's your name?" Patrick asked the girl.

"Kaitlyn," she replied. "Kaitlyn Howell."

"Well, why don't you introduce yourself to the group?"

She stuttered for a minute, "Okay, well, I'm Kaitlyn, and I've got AML, or acute myeloid Leukemia. I was diagnosed about a year ago, and I've been undergoing treatment. I don't know if I am terminal or not yet, but I am holding on to hope that I can be cured."

"Do you worry of a chance of relapse?" Now would have been the perfect moment to roll my eyes, instead, I grunted in annoyance.

I could sense Patrick noticed my discomfort. "I apologize to you, Kaitlyn for bringing that up, and you Isaac for bringing that up." He turned back to Kaitlyn, "Did you know Augustus Waters?"

She didn't even have to think about it. "Yes, I saw him play basketball a few times when he still had both of his legs."

I resisted the urge to fall out of my chair. Here was another girl, one that wasn't as sick as Hazel, someone who knew both of them like I did. I was about to ask her a question when Patrick asked her for me.

"How come you never joined Hazel or Augustus here?"

She chuckled a little, "I'm a twenty year old British girl trapped in a sixteen year old's body. I am very preppy, and I live my life schedule down to the minute. Even if I wanted to come, I didn't want to seem… like an outcast, I suppose?" She sighed, almost as if she was holding the weight of something back.

"But I regret it. I regret not spending enough time with Hazel. Once she and Gus became close, I saw her maybe once or twice after the fact. I saw her before she died, and after she came back from Amsterdam before Gus's cancer took him away as well. I always wanted to come over and see her, but there was always something holding me back. But I wish more than ever she was still here, to give me a corny remark about how I should not worry about death when I was no way near as close as she had been." She paused for a moment, "Bottom line is I'm here because I am a depressed person, and I need to learn how to forgive myself."

She didn't talk about forgiving others, because how could you even want to not forgive someone who died without giving up a fight? Gus fought, he traveled to the other side of the world! Hazel fought her doctors, had a boyfriend, and escape death three or four times in the last three or four years. I think that's a battle well fought.

I couldn't help but stare over at the direction that Kaitlyn sat. Maybe I was being a creeper, maybe I was trying to figure out someone I couldn't see, but nevertheless I want into whatever she was.

And I'll never forget her closing remark, "We all have war inside of us. Sometimes it keeps us alive, sometimes it threatens to destroy us."

Honestly, that was the third most eventful support group in a long time.

* * *

 ** _I don't know what it is about this chapter, but I like the key ideas of how I come up with the titles. Until next week!_**

 ** _~Leigh_**


	3. Chapter 2: Not About Death

**_So I have not yet written a TFIOS story, and if I has it's been a long, long time, and I think maybe you will like this. This is Isaac's story after the end._**

 **Not About Angels**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own TFIOS**

 ** _Reply to WallFlower95: Aw, thank you! Now update Convergent. I can't wait for the final chapter!_**

So when my mom picked me up from Support Group, she was smiling, and I knew that because I heard her chuckle; when we got into the car, Graham was sitting in the back, humming along to Hectic Glow.

"What are you so happy about?" I asked my mom as I put my seatbelt on.

"So," she said, droning out the word to near annoyance. "How was Support Group?"

I had clicked the seatbelt in and turned to look at her. "Really, that's what you're going to ask me?"

I could sense her nodding her head, "Yes, really, how was it? Did you make any new friends?"

"No," I retorted.

She sighed, "Isaac."

I shook my head, "No, I didn't." I sighed a little in utter announce. She was going to keep asking questions until I gave her an answer that she would want to know.

"Fine," my word sparked her attention, and I heard her move around in her seat. "Alright, there is this new girl. Apparently she knew Gus and Hazel, and was really close with Hazel. They went to school together and now she's here because she has Leukemia, although it's more than that."

A frown was evident in her voice, something I knew easily from her tone when she spoke like this. "What's more than that?"

I leaned back in the seat as we began the drive out of the parking lot. "She knew Hazel, and before Hazel was really, really, sick and still came to Support Group with me after Gus was gone, she invited Kaitlyn-"

"The girls name is Kaitlyn?" My mother asked.

I acted like a little kid in that moment, "Mom, please focus. Anyways, she declined the invitation, and the following week Hazel became really ill and of course, that's when she stopped attending Support Group with me, and that's why I stopped going. All the memories of my friends, and that horrible stench of all the disinfectant used reminded me of the hospital, and I couldn't do it just yet.

"Shortly after that, however, Hazel had died, and Kaitlyn brought it up, and if I had eyes, I would have been crying."

"Isaac-"

"No, I just… I need to finish talking, mom. I've been holding all this in." I could feel her pull the car into the driveway, and she pivoted in her seat.

"Graham, go inside and play. We'll be in in a few."

Graham whined, "Don't leave me with the monster in the closet that Isaac says exists there and…"

I smirked, "Boo!" I shouted, and he took off running from the car. I found it funny, no, I found it god damn hilarious, but my mother didn't find it so funny. After scolding me for a good ten seconds and a two sentence lecture about how I shouldn't pull pranks on my brother, we continued our conversation.

She cut the engine, "What did this girl say about us?"

"Nothing much, except she saw him play basketball when he had both of his legs."

My mom hummed in response, "Well, it seems you two have a common ground. Maybe you can be friends."

I sighed, "Mom, I don't want another friend."

"Why not?" She asked, seriously concerned of my well-being at this point.

"Because she's going to die, that's why!" I couldn't stop the words from my mouth once they had begun. "Gus died, leaving me alone with Hazel, and I knew she wasn't going to get better. Every fucking friends I have dies!" I slammed my hand against the car window roughly, and then hung my head in shame. I ran my left hand that wasn't burning from hitting the car through my hair.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean it."

"I know," she replied. "But Isaac, you're never going to enjoy your life if you can't look for good things. You had Gus around for a long time, and you had Hazel longer than you expected. You can't be thinking negatively all the time as if that them being gone is going to ruin your life. You have the audio book of An Imperial Affliction from Hazel, and you have a saved trophy from Gus."

"I remember the time I smashed most of Gus's trophies because I got so mad at Monica."

"You did what?"

"No, mom, he told me to." I tried to defend myself with reasoning, but I could tell she wasn't buying it. "No, really, he told me I needed to stop 'kicking the shit out of the chair' and do something that would actually break."

My mother sighed, and then she laughed, "My son, what would I do without you?"

I shrugged, "You'd be stuck with a seven year old who still believes in the closet monster."

[[PAGE BREAK]]

I convinced my mother the following morning to take to me Gus's and Hazel's grave. We buried them side by side, exactly where they belonged to be, exactly where they almost always were, by each other's sides, even at Support Group.

I sighed, having my mother help lead me toward the site. I knew the exact number of paces toward the grave, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was it was like I could see their graves, even though I couldn't. I was blind, duh.

But as I approached, I heard the sound of sniffling. I thought my mother had come from behind me, but the noise was coming in front of me. I approached it with caution. It was probably some stranger mourning for the loss of a loved one.

"I'm so sorry," the voice was soft, and it was obvious the person had been sobbing for quite some time. The voice was feminine and obviously her throat was scratchy, and I listened to the sound of footsteps.

I could almost inhale the person scent and feel their warmth, as if they were right in front of me the entire time.

When the person spoke, I was speechless for a second. "Isaac?"

My mouth fell agape for a half of a second, "Kaitlyn?"


	4. Chapter 3: Not About Friendship

**_I'm so sorry about the delayed update, it's summer, so they'll be more frequent: here you go._**

 ** _~Leigh_**

 ** _**This chapter is dedicated to WallFlower95, who needs to update the final chapter to Convergent so I can see how Natalie dies. P.S She was also my co-author to 'Pencil and Pen'. Check out her stories!*_**

 **Not About Friendship**

Certainly, in that moment I would've believed that this girl who I hadn't known long, was crying because of pity and because of loss, crying at the same spot I would cry when I was alone, but her being here sort of meant something to me, although I didn't know what it was.

"Kaitlyn," I asked, sinking down on one knee. "What's the matter?"

She didn't reply at first, and for a minute I thought it was maybe because she didn't hear me, but I could hear her breathing, and her scent lingered in the air. Jasmine.

She sighed, and I heard the sound of her finger running against her scalp, like her nails scratched it as she ran them through her hair. "I just came to see Hazel." Her breathing was rushed and fast, almost as if she couldn't catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" I asked. No response.

"You forget I'm blind." I added. "That I can't see the signals you make with your head or your fingers."

She spoke again a few moments later. "I'm sorry. I forgot." She sighed yet again, almost as if something was a burden on her.

"What's the matter?" I asked again.

"I said I came to see Hazel." Her voice was almost as if she was irritated I was asking the same question. I turned my head to the sound of her voice.

I shook my head. "No, I mean the sighing, and the fingers running through the hair in an exasperated tone."

"How did you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"How did you know?"

"What?" I ask, through laughter, and she makes a weird clicking noise.

"Oh," she said. "I meant how you knew I was running my fingers through my hair."

I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't really know how. I took a wild guess, and even to this day I recall it being so that it must've been one of the luckiest guesses of my time well spent.

She nodded, and I heard the sound of her footsteps. "Are you leaving?" I asked.

She must've nodded, and then forgotten I was blind again, becaue she said, "I'll see you soon."

I nodded, standing up after her with my cane. "Wait!" I called out. There was one more thing I had to ask her. "How come you can't remember anything very well?"

She didn't really reply for a moment, and I thought she had left, and then I felt her hand on my arm, which was warm, small, soft but also strong and sturdy, like she was trying to hold herself in place near me. "I've never had a good memory. And I have a really bad thyroid problem, too, and it makes me have long-term and short-term memory loss, so it's hard to remember some things."

"How did you remember my name?" I asked.

"Because we're friends." She replied, although she didn't seem too confident about it.

I raised an eyebrow, which was like opening one of my empty eyes behind my dark glasses, and then squeezing the other so tight my eyebrow would raise. "We're friends?"

She couldn't help but laugh. I don't know if it was because she thought my comment was sarcastic, or because she thought that maybe questioning herself was a bad idea.

I turned back toward the graves, listening to her footsteps trail off. Hazel's grave was on the right, and Gus's was on the left. After Gus died and Hazel got worse, her parents one day called me and asked where they thought we should bury her. Well, her mother asked me but her father was quietly sobbing.

"Right beside Gus." I told her. "But to the right, because she always stayed on his right side, whether they were walking, or sitting down, or cuddling on the couch which disgusted me listening to the sound of their smacking lips together.

I took a deep breath, stood up and turned around, using my cane to maneuver me back to my mom's car. She ran the engine a few times so I could follow the sound, and when I sat in the car I was blasted with cool air.

"Was that Kaitlyn?" My mother asked. She clicked my cane to a close a I buckled my seatbelt in.

I turned to the sound of her voice and nodded my head once. "Yeah, that was Kaitlyn."

"She doesn't look so sick." My mother commented.

"Neither did Gus." I added, and she was quiet during the drive home.

When we got home, my brother didn't exactly question anything. He sat in the car quietly the entire time, not uttering a word, not even when we brought up Kaitlyn, he remained silent. I was sitting in my room when the door opened and someone knocked.

"Isaac?" My brother's voice called me, and I turned to the sound of it.

"Are you okay Graham?" I asked.

He mumbled in reply, and I heard him walk into my bedroom. I sat up so he could sit on the edge of my bed, and I felt his small figure weigh the end of my mattress down. I had a sense he was looking at me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I know why you don't want to be friends with that pretty brown-haired girl." Oh, I thought, so she has brown hair. Of course, I also heard my brother. I was curious about his insights.

"What do you mean I don't want to be friends with her?" I asked.

He kind of mumbled for a moment, and then he said, "I don't know. It's just… Gus died, and then Hazel died." He was kicking his feet back and forth against my mattress and I could feel the vibration. At least I knew he was attentive.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't see a need to have friends."

"Because you won't be so lonely all the time and because you won't miss Hazel and Gus so often." Graham replied his voice almost like a whine but wasn't meant to be taken like a cry for help, or displeasure, but almost as if he was concerned.

I smiled at him a little, and I had a sense he was smiling back. "Thanks little brother, but you know… it's not really about friendship."

His tone was a little curious. "Then what is it about?"

I shrugged. I didn't really have an answer. What is it really about?


End file.
